


Prime of Life

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: As his 40th birthday approaches, Remus takes stock of his life and decides it's time to make some changes.





	Prime of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004.

Remus stood in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom and stared at his reflection with a critical eye. When the hell had he become so bloody stodgy? Conservative brown robes, corduroy trousers that sagged in the rear, cardigans, and _tweed_ , for Merlin's sake.

He looked like someone's dad. Or worse, like someone's bachelor uncle, the one who spent all his time in libraries and museums and grew progressively tweedier until he died, and people only realized it two weeks later when his library books were overdue and he hadn't returned them with his usual punctuality. And then they buried him in a shroud of tweed to symbolize his utterly boring, empty, _tweedy_ life.

He took off his glasses and raked one hand through his hair, tousling it; setting his glasses aside, he shrugged out of his robes and jacket, unraveled his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it join the pile of clothes on the floor. At least he hadn't let himself get pudgy, in spite of how comfortable his life had become after the war.

With new, more sympathetic officials in place at the Ministry, the restrictive laws against werewolves had been repealed or made less stringent, and Remus had been able to find work. Rather, it had been able to find _him_. Ever since finding out from Harry that he was the Mr. Moony from the Marauders Map, Fred and George Weasley had been clamoring for him to work for them as part of their research and development team. "We owe you so much!" Fred had declared on more than one occasion, and George had always seconded him vigorously.

Finding himself adrift after the war and still in need of work, he had accepted. Eventually, he moved away from R&D and became primarily responsible for doing the bookwork, since both twins disliked the task and were more than happy to turn it over to him. He didn't mind it, and it gave them more time to focus on what they both really loved: creating the candies and toys. He still helped a little with the research end of things, but generating ideas for mischief had always been James and Sirius' forte. Remus had been more adept at figuring out ways to make their ideas a reality.

For the last two years, he'd had a job, a nice flat, and no worries about where his next meal was coming from or how he would pay his bills from month to month. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was prospering and even branching out; the stuffed squid toy that wound its tentacles around the wrist of whoever held it and randomly squirted disappearing ink had been a huge success, especially at Christmas, and it had given Remus the idea to create a whole line of stuffed toys with quirks that parents would loathe and children would adore. Just the week before, George had shown him the prototype of the acromantula stuffed toy, which would scuttle along the floor on its spindly legs, chasing after people and leaping to attach itself to their leg. "We're sending Ron the first one!" George had announced with evil glee. Remus was happy in his work, and he certainly couldn't say he ever got bored there, but the rest of his life... Well, that was another story.

He ran both hands down the length of his torso and sighed. His birthday was six weeks away. His fortieth birthday. How the hell had that happened? He didn't _feel_ forty. It was a shock to realize that forty years of his life were behind him, never to return, and he was only going to keep on getting older. His face would never be unlined again; his hair would never be free of grey again. He'd never been handsome like James and Sirius even when he had the natural beauty of youth on his side; he was always "the quiet one". The bookish one. The one who faded into the background, completely forgettable while James and Sirius were around.

Now he didn't even have youth on his side anymore. He was an aging werewolf -- single, celibate, and alone. His youth was over, irretrievably gone. And what had he done with it? Wasted it. He had no memories of drunken revelry; he'd always been the responsible one who maybe got a little buzzed but never overdid it, because he was looking after his friends while _they_ indulged in the drunken revelry. No dancing on tables or one night stands or blank spots in his memory -- nothing to show that he'd sowed any of his wild oats. _His_ wild oats were, in fact, still in the field, having never known the touch of a scythe. And that was a bloody shame.

"Not bad for your age, dear," the mirror said, and Remus jumped, startled by the sudden, unexpected comment. "You're better off leaving those clothes on the floor, though, if you ask me."

"I'm inclined to agree," Remus said. "Any suggestions?"

"Get rid of all the tweed and find yourself something nice in blue or green to bring out your eyes."

Laughing, Remus nodded. "The tweed must go," he agreed. "Thank you."

Perhaps he would go shopping after work, he thought. He still had some good years left in him, after all, and he was tired of letting life pass him by. He wanted to live -- to enjoy all the things he had missed out on. Better late than never, wasn't that the old adage?

Nodding resolutely, he decided. He was going to make some changes. Starting that very day, the world was going to see a new and different Remus J. Lupin.

* * *

"Er." Harry held the door of his quarters open, frozen on the threshold as he stared at his visitor, his lower jaw unhinged.

"Hullo, Harry -- are you going to invite me in?" Remus was grinning at him -- grinning! He'd seen Remus smile often enough and sometimes chuckle, but an outright grin was a rare thing indeed, not something Harry thought of as part of the Lupin expression repertoire.

"Er. Right. Yes. Come in." Harry stood aside to let Remus inside and then closed the door, following Remus over to the sofa, still staring. "What happened?" he blurted out at last.

Remus took a seat on one end of the sofa, although Harry thought "sprawling" would be a more accurate description of what he was doing. Instead of sitting up straight with his legs crossed at the knee as usual, Remus was relaxed, reclining with one knee bent, his other leg stretched out in front of him, and both arms flung along the back of the sofa.

"You mean the way I look?" Remus asked, his tone too innocent to be innocent, and Harry shot him a sardonic look as he sat down in a chair by the hearth.

"Yes, I mean the way you look."

"It was a whim." Remus smiled and shrugged wryly. "With a rather significant birthday approaching, I decided it was time to take stock and make a couple of changes."

"A couple?"

"All right, a few. So -- what do you think?"

Harry gave him an appraising once-over, taking in the details. Not only was Remus dressed differently, but he'd made other changes as well. His hair was longer, brushing the nape of his neck; he'd also grown a Van Dyke beard, and even with his glasses on, he had a rakish air about him now, and the new clothes only heightened the effect.

Gone were the baggy trousers and dull colors. Now he was wearing layered robes -- a white undertunic with long, tight sleeves that draped on the back of his hands and a mandarin collar, and a sapphire blue overtunic with a square collar and long, loose sleeves that began to flare at the elbow.

"I think that if I liked men, you'd be in trouble," Harry said, and Remus gave him a wolfish smile.

"These days, I'm looking for trouble."

"Oh, _really_." Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "What is this -- a mid-life crisis?"

"Something like that. I realized that years have passed me by, and I've existed through them. I want to change that while I still can. I'm not poor anymore, I still have a few good years left in me, and I want to loosen up and enjoy myself."

"What does that mean exactly?" Harry leaned forward, scrutinizing Remus carefully. He could understand what Remus was saying, but there was still a part of him that was concerned.

"It means I'm going to stop dressing and acting like a stodgy old uncle. I'm going to go out on the weekends when I feel like it, I'm going to get drunk, and I'm going to get laid."

For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Harry felt his jaw hit the floor. "Okay -- I did _not_ need to know that."

"You asked." Remus smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, Harry. I don't intend to be irresponsible, quit my job, and fly off to the Bahamas to lounge on the beach for the rest of my life. I simply want to get out more, meet new people, socialize more, and have a good time while I still can." His smile turned wistful. "I can just imagine your father and Sirius watching me and saying, 'Moony, what the bloody hell have you been doing? You're the only one of us left, and you're still alive, so why aren't you living? Where did your spirit go?' And I don't know. I don't remember when things changed -- when _I_ changed. We were all so full of life when we were in school, but somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that."

"All things considered, it's not surprising," Harry said. "You went through a lot."

"Yes. But it's over now, and I'm ready to shed the skin of this boring lump I've turned into. I've been acting forty years old for twenty years. Now that I really am forty--"

"You want to act twenty," Harry finished for him, smiling and shaking his head.

"Precisely."

"Well, if it makes you happy, I suppose it's all right." Harry wagged a finger at him and frowned. "As long as it doesn't get out of hand."

"Yes, Dad."

"It never pays to be cheeky to the man who buys those biscuits with the mint dark chocolate glaze just for when you come to tea."

"Dearest Harry, you have my deepest and most profound apologies. Now where are the biscuits?"

* * *

At the knock on his office door, Harry glanced up, expecting to see one of his students, likely a girl. The young men tended to walk in with greater boldness, while the young women loitered on the threshold, blushing and ducking their heads as they greeted young Professor Potter shyly. He knew some of them had crushes on him, which he found odd but endearing, and he tried to maintain an air of kind obtuseness in order to avoid either leading them on or hurting their feelings.

It wasn't a student this time, however; Remus was peeking into the room, looking around to make certain he wasn't overseeing a detention, and Harry smiled broadly, waving at him to enter and have a seat.

"Hullo! How goes the debauchery?" Harry greeted him cheerfully, and Remus smiled back as he walked in and dropped into a chair across from Harry's desk, giving Harry a strange sense of distorted deja vu, considering it had once been Remus' office.

"Splendid," Remus said. "I've been terribly wicked, and I've loved every minute of it."

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Anything you can share with tender ears, or would I be better off not knowing?"

Remus laughed -- a warm, rich sound that Harry was glad to hear more often now. "I've found the most wonderful club. It's a Muggle club -- a club for gay Muggles, actually. I've been going on Friday and Saturday nights, and it's brilliant. The music is deafening, and the drinks are horribly over-priced, but it's packed with gorgeous men, and I've danced more in the past three weeks than I have in the past twenty years."

"Danced? You?" Harry didn't bother to hide his surprise. He knew Remus liked music, but he was having trouble imagining his old-fashioned friend in a modern club. He always thought doing the Lindy to some Glenn Miller tune was more Remus' style.

"Yes, me." Remus stood up and skirted around Harry's desk, holding out both hands. "I've managed to catch up with the times quite nicely. Here," he said, grasping Harry's hands and tugging him to his feet. "I'll show you, if you don't believe me."

Laughing, Harry let himself be led, and Remus guided him to the middle of the floor; resting his hands on Harry's hips, Remus began to dance, moving to an inner beat, and Harry slid his arms around Remus' neck and followed his lead. With anyone else, he might have felt awkward or embarrassed, but ever since Harry had grown up enough for them to relate as adults -- as friends -- rather than mentor and student, he had been as comfortable with Remus as he was with Ron and Hermione. For all their frankness and teasing, he knew Remus regarded him with the affection of an uncle for his favorite nephew. To Harry, Remus felt like family, which was why Harry wasn't the least bit concerned about how silly he might appear gyrating around his office in Remus' arms.

Until Snape walked in.

* * *

The door of Potter's office was open when he got there, which was why Severus didn't knock. He had expected Potter to be alone. Busy, perhaps, but alone. Instead, he found Potter dancing with Remus Lupin. Not proper dancing, either. It had to be some kind of Muggle dance -- lewd, almost primitive, and utterly shameful.

He stared, dumbfounded as Potter and Lupin moved together, their bodies swaying to a beat that only they could hear; Potter had his arms thrown around Lupin's neck and was clinging to him like some desperate tart, and Lupin's hands were on Potter's hips, guiding him as they danced, graceful and fluid, completely in sync.

Severus swallowed hard and tried to tear his gaze away from the sight before they noticed him, before he was caught staring, but he couldn't quite manage it, not after they had turned so that he was presented with an unobstructed view of Lupin's arse. Damn the man! When had he stopped wearing those shapeless, drab trousers? He was dressed like a Muggle, wearing trousers like those Severus saw students wearing when they weren't in classes. Jeans, he thought they were called. Whatever they were, Lupin's were snug, emphasizing his long legs and the curve of his arse. Severus had a sudden, wild impulse to push his hands into Lupin's back pockets, and he grimaced, shaking his head to clear it of all such thoughts.

Unfortunately, the "jeans" weren't the only temptation. Lupin was also wearing a dark green sweater, its V-neckline revealing a tantalizing glimpse of dark chest hair, and the plain wide rings he wore on both thumbs drew Severus' attention to his long, slender fingers every time he moved his hands. Lupin's hair was longer, and as thick and wavy as it was, it seemed just right for someone to run his fingers through, and the beard Lupin now sported served to emphasize how full and rosy his bottom lip was -- perfect for sucking and licking.

Not that Severus wanted to. What he was experiencing was merely a natural reaction to an aesthetically pleasing sight, and as much as Severus hated Lupin, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that the man was attractive. He had always thought so; there was something about Lupin that Severus had always been drawn to, and he had long since decided it was the darkness of Lupin's inner beast that called to the darkness in Severus' own soul. Both of them were tainted, and that was the only reason why Severus had never been able to shake his unwilling fascination. The beguiling curve of Lupin's mouth when he smiled had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

That a burning knot of anger was tightening around his stomach as he watched them and he felt a rising urge to yank Potter away from Lupin and demand that he keep his damned hands off was the product of Severus' sense of professional pride. What kind of example would Potter be setting for his students if one of them walked in and found him cavorting with a werewolf? He'd be the shame of the school, and it offended Severus' image-conscious sensibilities. That was all.

"Professor Snape!" Potter caught a glimpse of him over Lupin's shoulder. "I wasn't expecting you."

They stopped their crude writhing and released each other, stepping back from their embrace, but neither of them had the grace to look embarrassed. Instead, they were both looking at him with curiosity tinged with what might be annoyance at having been interrupted.

"I came to deliver the sedative you wanted," Severus said tersely.

"Sedative?" Lupin raised a questioning eyebrow at Potter, who explained quickly.

"For the pixies. I'm showing them to my classes next week, and I don't want to have any unexpected problems. Hermione has already been teasing me about pulling a Lockhart as it is."

"You could just use a stunning spell."

"During the day, I will. The sedative is for overnight, when I won't be around to catch them if they find a way out of their cage."

Pulling the small vial out of his pocket, Severus crossed the room and placed it on Potter's desk. "Only three or four drops in their food should suffice to knock them out for at least eight hours," he said. "It's concentrated, so be careful about the dose if you want to keep them alive."

"I'll be careful," Potter said. "Thanks for bringing it."

Severus grunted a response and turned to leave, more than ready to return to the peace and quiet of his dungeons and leave them to their bizarre mating rituals, but Lupin's voice brought him to a halt again.

"I'm having a party this weekend, Severus. You're invited, if you'd like to come."

Pivoting on his heel, Severus fixed Lupin with a steely glare. "Why in Merlin's name would you think that I would want to attend your party?"

"Oh, I don't know." Lupin smiled, that damnable calm smile that gave away nothing of what he was thinking and which always made Severus feel he was being mocked. "Maybe because I happen to know you're turning forty this year too, if you haven't already. We geezers should stick together."

"You're inviting me to a birthday party?"

"Yes, my birthday is actually on Thursday, but I thought the weekend would be more convenient for the party. No presents necessary, just the pleasure of your company."

Severus let out a harsh bark of laughter at that. "As if you or any of your friends would ever take pleasure in my company, or I in yours. I've no interest in attending your party, Lupin."

Lupin shrugged and smiled again. "I thought as much, but it never hurts to ask. It's Saturday night at seven o'clock, if you change your mind."

"I won't," Severus snarled, and then he quickly stormed out before either Lupin or Potter could reply. The idiocy of the man -- inviting him to a party. It wasn't a gesture of good will; Lupin knew Severus would be out of place there, and likely the only reason Lupin had extended the invitation in the first place was to humiliate him if he did show up.

Bastard. Lupin could take his party and his handsome, famous young lover and go hang!

* * *

"Drink up." Hermione handed the goblet to Remus, watching as he downed it quickly, and he did his best to repress a grimace at the taste as he handed the empty goblet back to her.

"Thank you," he said, as he always did, and she would tell him there was no need, as she always did, but for Remus, there was. He was more grateful than he could express that she was willing to make the Wolfsbane potion for him each month free of charge, in spite of his repeated offers of payment. When she refused to take money, he had offered to repay her in other ways -- even to clean her windows for her -- anything to repay her generosity and effort.

"No need," she replied, waving one hand as she put the goblet aside and sat down, scrutinizing him again. "Harry says you're having a mid-life crisis," she added without preamble, and he laughed, amused but not surprised by her forthrightness.

"I am," he said, taking a seat across from her. "I've been a very naughty werewolf of late, going to clubs, drinking to excess, and having fantastic sex with lovely young men."

Although she tried to look reproachful, he could see the laughter dancing in her eyes. "Remus, really. I never thought you of all people would do something like this."

"Why not? I've been repressing things my whole life, and I'm tired of it," he replied. "I'm not harming myself or anyone else, and I'm having fun. I only go out on nights when I don't have to work the next day, and my job hasn't suffered. If anything, I think Fred and George are pleasantly surprised by the fact that I've been coming up with more ideas than usual thanks to the fact that I'm happier than I have been in years."

"I'm glad you're happy," she said, her brow furrowing with concern. "But Harry said you've been going to Muggle clubs. You've been careful, haven't you? I don't mean about magic, I mean about sex."

"I've been very careful. I have this," he said, pulling out a pendant in the shape of a caduceus from beneath his robes. "When I touch someone who's ill, it gives me a little jolt so that I can avoid shagging anyone who might pass along something nasty. It's not infallible, of course, since it doesn't distinguish between a venereal disease and a mild cold, but better safe than sorry. Even then, I still use one of those condom things. I've kept a close eye on my health, and I'm fine. It isn't as if I shag someone every time I go out, either. Sometimes I just go to be among people, have a drink, and dance."

"If it's simply being around people you want, you could visit your friends," she suggested gently.

"I know. But it isn't just the socializing." He smiled wryly and raked one hand through his hair. "I'll probably sound like an old fool to you for saying this, but when I go to these clubs, I can meet men who find me attractive and desirable -- _me_. They don't know who or what I am; they just look at me and like what they see. I've never experienced that before, and it's changed how I think and feel about myself."

"Harry said he'd noticed a change. He said you seemed more relaxed, more self-confident."

Remus nodded. "I do feel more self-confident. All my life, I've walked in the shadow of other people because I'm not handsome or charming or even normal. I've thought of myself as a rather plain, quiet werewolf, but now -- now it's different. I may not be handsome, but I'm good looking enough to get a date when I want one, I'm socially adept enough to keep his interest outside of bed, and no one there would believe me even if I told them the truth about myself. For the first time in my life, I don't just accept who and what I am -- I _like_ who I am."

She smiled, her expression filled with fond affection. "Then I'm happy for you," she said. "I think you've been seriously underestimating yourself all these years if you haven't realized that yes, you are attractive and charming in your own quiet way, but if this is what it takes for you to see it in yourself, then I think it's a good thing -- better late than never."

"Hermione..." He could feel the rush of heat in his cheeks at her words of praise, and her smile widened to a grin.

"That you don't realize your own appeal is part of your charm," she said. "But I'm very glad that your self confidence has been given a boost. Just don't let it get out of hand," she added, a mock-warning note in her voice. "I don't want to have to deflate your ego for you."

"The mere thought of which is more than enough reason for me to make certain I don't let myself become cocky."

"I thought as much. Now then -- will you have some tea? I have cinnamon tea this time."

* * *

On the night of his fortieth birthday party, Remus' flat was filled with food, laughter, and the buzz of conversation; he'd cast a sound-proofing spell so he wouldn't disturb his neighbors if the party ran late, and so they could turn up the music if they liked. In lieu of presents, he had asked his guests to bring food, even Fred and George, although he had made them both swear they wouldn't use the party as an opportunity to taste test any new products. The remaining Weasley clan was in attendance; Arthur was there with Molly, who had brought a huge pot of soup, Bill and his wife Fleur had come with a box of creme-filled pastries, the twins had brought a couple of shepherd's pies they had bought from the Leaky Cauldron along with an acromantula toy for Ron, who was there with Luna.

Ginny had come with Neville, Tonks had shown up with her latest boyfriend, and Harry and Hermione were there as well. Minerva had sent her regrets at the last minute, explaining that Filch had found an infestation of doxies in the unused part of the West Tower, and it was too much for one person to manage alone, but she invited him for tea the following week and promised chocolate biscuits to make up for it. Severus, of course, hadn't shown up -- not that Remus expected him to.

There was plenty of food, more than even this crowd could eat, and Remus was pleased to see everyone relaxed and having a good time. He couldn't help but notice, however, that everyone was paired off somehow, whether through ties of love, blood, or friendship. He was the odd man out at his own party, the thought of which gave him a little twinge.

"You've made some changes since the last time I saw you," Bill said, clapping him on the shoulder, and Remus glanced up at him, smiling.

"Yes, I thought I was overdue."

"According to the grapevine, you've been doing quite a bit of socializing. I'm surprised you don't have a date with you tonight."

"It hasn't been that kind of socializing," Remus admitted sheepishly. "More the 'no longer than a weekend' kind."

"Ah. Not the kind you'd take home to Mum, then."

"No, not at all." Remus looked around the room again, his expression turning wistful. "Maybe someday, though. It isn't that I don't want to settle down with one person. It's just that I don't think anyone I've met recently would want that, not yet. They're mostly young men who just want to have a good time with no strings attached, and that's been nice for the past few weeks, but..."

"But you're not a young man who doesn't want strings."

"No." Remus shook his head. "Apparently it didn't take long for me to reap my wild oats."

"Well, it's understandable," Bill said. "I can see why it would pall more quickly for you. You're at a different stage of your life than they are."

"Yes." Remus watched as Luna giggled and opened her mouth to let Ron feed her a bite of cake, and then he sighed quietly. "And they're Muggles, which complicates things even more. The trouble is, I haven't had much luck finding a wizard closer to my age who is gay _and_ isn't prejudiced against werewolves. Men like that don't just come along every day."

"No, I suppose not. But in the meantime, you have us." Bill gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Friends and family."

"Yes, I do, and I'm grateful for all of you," Remus said, smiling up at Bill.

And he was. He appreciated the bonds he had forged over the past few years, and he knew how lucky he was to have such close relationships. But there was a small part of him that ached for someone special -- someone he could love, someone who loved him in return. He had enjoyed the fun and freedom of the past few weeks, but the pleasure was beginning to fade now that the newness had worn off, and he was finding it increasingly dissatisfying. He wanted -- needed -- something more. Something deeper. Something lasting.

He simply didn't know where to find it.

As his restless dissatisfaction continued, he began going out to the clubs less and spending time with his friends more. He began hosting get-togethers of various sizes, and within a couple of months, it was common knowledge in his social circle that they could drop by his flat at any time and find a warm welcome and a place to relax.

His desire for companionship was satisfied in that sense; he enjoyed the evenings when one, two, or more of his friends dropped by, and they stayed up until the wee hours drinking wine and talking while soft music played in the background. But they always went home, and he always went to bed alone with only his pillow to curl up with, his heart lonely for someone whom he wasn't even certain existed.

The problem was, he didn't know that many single men. Of the single men he did know, most of them were married or seeing someone. Those who weren't... Well, he liked older men, but Filius was a bit older than he preferred, and even if he were interested in Argus, the man seemed more interested in his cat than in other people. Really, the only man he knew who was single, not too old, and might not be completely straight was Severus.

Remus took another sip of wine and mulled this thought over. He was on his second glass, which he felt certain was the only reason why he was considering Severus Snape as a romantic possibility. The chances of Severus agreeing to a relationship with him were low enough to be almost nonexistent. The man hated him, after all.

Then again, he mused, better hatred than apathy. Hatred was a strong emotion, and perhaps with a little persuasion, it could be channeled in another direction -- a more positive one.

Swirling the wine around in his glass, Remus narrowed his eyes as he worked his way through this idea. What if Severus was lonely, too? What if Severus was gay and lonely and, with the proper incentive, could be coaxed into dating him? And what did he have to lose by trying? They no longer worked together, so Severus wouldn't have the opportunity to make fun of him for making the attempt, and he couldn't make things worse between them than they already were.

He thought about Severus and what it might be like if a miracle occurred and Severus did agree to explore the possibility of a relationship. Did he really want that, or was he just desperately grabbing at straws? Severus was bitter, snarky, and eaten up with anger; he wouldn't be easy to be with, much less live with. Both of them were long-term bachelors who had little experience living with someone else and who were set in their ways. Would it be worth the effort?

Taking another long drink of wine, he thought about sex, trying to imagine Severus naked. Severus wasn't a handsome man, but then again, even on their best days, neither of them would ever rival someone like Sirius in the looks department. Remus didn't particularly care about looks anyway; compatibility was more important, and Severus was an intelligent man who had an interest in the same field as Remus did. If they could sit down and hold a civilized conversation, he thought they might be able to get on quite well together.

If he admitted the truth to himself, there was something about Severus that attracted him; he didn't know what or why, but there was something there. He didn't know whether Severus felt it, too, or if it was one-sided, but he thought it was worth exploring -- provided, of course, that they could work through their tangled history. He sighed and finished off his wine. Likely this would seem like a foolish idea in the morning -- a task of Herculean proportions -- and he would continue on as he had been for the foreseeable future.

But when he woke up the next morning, it didn't seem entirely impossible. A small part of him had latched on to the idea, hopeful that it might work, and it wouldn't let him forget, no matter how hard he tried. Thoughts of Severus and how to win his trust kept creeping into his mind over the next few days until he finally decided that trying and failing was better than wondering.

And then Remus Lupin set out to court Severus Snape.

* * *

"Busy, Severus?"

Severus glanced up, irritated at the interruption and even more irritated when he saw Lupin standing in the doorway. "Yes," he replied tersely, hoping that would suffice to send Lupin packing or at least get to the point quickly, but Lupin walked in and sat down, lounging in a chair across from Severus' desk as if he intended to stay a while. Not bothering to hide his annoyance, he placed his quill back in its holder and glared across the desk at Lupin. "What do you want?"

"I was here visiting Harry, and I thought I might stop in and say hello to you, too."

Severus eyed him warily. "Why?"

Lupin shrugged and smiled that damned insufferable smile. But at least he wasn't in that Muggle get-up; he was wearing proper robes this time, although they were deep burgundy and looked new, not like the shabby drab brown robes Severus was accustomed to seeing him in. "Why not? We're old acquaintances."

"Old acquaintances who have a long history of animosity."

"Animosity that has been mostly one-sided," Lupin corrected gently. "I've never disliked you as much as you've disliked me."

"You've never had as much reason!"

"I beg to differ -- you cost me a job."

"You deserved to be sacked," Severus snarled. "You lied by omission the entire year to save your own skin."

"And you retaliated against me because you couldn't get back at James or Sirius. I admit my mistakes, but if you try to deny that you used me as a convenient target, I won't believe you."

"I don't give a damn what you believe, Lupin."

"But it's all water under the bridge now," Lupin continued smoothly, as if Severus hadn't spoken. "Besides, dredging up ancient history isn't why I'm here."

"Then do tell me the reason for your unwanted intrusion so that you may be on your way."

"I was rather hoping you had read Talbot's new book, the one about Gypsy curses. No one else I know has read it yet, and I'm eager to discuss it."

Severus stared at him, too stunned even to raise a haughty eyebrow. Of all the things he had expected Lupin to say after barging into his office uninvited, that was the last. "You want to discuss Talbot's book. With me."

"Well, yes." Lupin was giving him an ingenuous look now, as if the idea was perfectly reasonable. "I know you're as interested in the Dark Arts as I am, so I thought perhaps you had read it already and might be interested in talking about it with someone."

Severus peered at him with narrowed eyes. Lupin had never shown any interest in discussing anything with him before, so why now? It couldn't be for the simple reason that Lupin couldn't find anyone else to talk about it with -- although that did make an odd sort of sense. Lupin had gone through his circle of friends to no avail, and so Severus was his last resort.

He shouldn't agree to it. He knew he shouldn't. It would be utmost folly to give Lupin any grounds for returning. For all Severus knew, this was merely a ploy -- a set-up for revenge or for Lupin to get something he wanted, perhaps the Wolfsbane, although rumor had it that the Granger girl was brewing it for him, and even Severus couldn't deny her competence.

Still, he wasn't doing anything that couldn't be put off for an hour or so, and there wasn't anyone at the school who would be interested in discussing the book with him, not even Potter -- especially not Potter.

"Potter hasn't read it yet?" he asked, sneering. "He's supposed to keep up with the latest material, considering he teaches the subject."

"I believe he's still making his way through the Collins treatise on spirit displacement," Lupin replied.

"He should read more and follow Quidditch less," Severus grumbled, and Lupin chuckled.

"He's young, Severus. You can't expect him to have the same kind of enthusiasm for burying his nose in a book that we geezers do."

"Potter has never had enthusiasm for reading," Severus said, his tone scathing. "It was Granger who had a love of books, not Potter. If they hadn't been her friends, I think it likely that neither Potter nor Weasley would have done so well as they did in school."

"Perhaps not, but Harry _is_ trying to keep up. Still, he'll never be the sort to run out and buy a copy of something like _Sympathetic Magic: Cargo Cults and Wizard Consumerism_ on the day it hits the shelves. Not like us." He paused, cocking his head as he gave Severus a searching look. " _Have_ you read Talbot yet?"

Severus shuffled through the parchment in front of him, trying to buy some time while he decided what to do. The suspicious side of him was still convinced it was some kind of trap, although he couldn't figure out what kind, or what it was meant to do if it was. What was Lupin going to do -- mock Severus' opinion about the book at parties? The other side of him -- the one that was starving for intellectual conversation -- was latching on to that uncertainty and using it to sway him into accepting the invitation. That it was starved for more than intellectual conversation was something he chose to ignore.

"Yes," he admitted grudgingly. "I finished the book two nights ago."

"Wonderful." Lupin's smile widened, and he settled into his chair more comfortably. "What did you think?"

Three hours later, they hadn't got farther than arguing over whether Talbot's claims in chapter two that some of the curses fell under the category of blood magic were valid or not, and Severus had just made what he considered to be an irrefutable point when the weighty emphasis of his words was undermined by a loud rumble from his stomach. He scowled, annoyed and a little embarrassed, but Lupin didn't laugh. Instead, he pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it.

"Merlin, look at the time. I hadn't realized it was getting so late." He gave Severus an apologetic smile. "I've made you miss dinner. I'm sorry."

"I'll have the House Elves bring something to my chambers," Severus replied, waving away the concern.

"Still, I should be going." Lupin rose to his feet, preparing to leave, and then paused to study Severus for a moment. "I don't suppose you'd care to continue the conversation sometime?" he asked casually. "We still have ten chapters left to debate."

Severus searched Lupin's face for any sign of trickery or duplicity, but he found none. He was tempted to say yes, although his better judgment warned him to send Lupin packing with a blistering set-down while he still could, but somehow, when he opened his mouth, what came out wasn't even a mild sting.

"I'm free on Saturday."

Lupin's eyes widened slightly, as if he was as surprised by the acceptance as Severus was, and he nodded, a pleased smile curving his mouth. "Would you prefer that I come here?"

"Yes." He paused and then added, "you could come for tea."

"I'll see you on Saturday, then."

With that, Lupin departed, and Severus watched him go, reminding himself repeatedly that it was just a conversation, and as soon as they had finished discussing the book, Lupin wouldn't bother him anymore. Meanwhile, he would remain on guard, and if anything suspicious occurred, Lupin would be out on his ear.

* * *

"Hello, Severus." Lupin's smile was warm as he approached the table Severus had claimed for them in a secluded corner of the Leaky Cauldron's common room.

"Lupin." Severus fought to keep his voice neutral, not wanting to give away the little curl of pleasure seeing Lupin always gave him these days. It was bad enough that he couldn't keep himself from watching Lupin move across the room, but considering Lupin's get-up, he felt justified -- and he was hardly the only one following Lupin's progress.

From a distance, Severus couldn't tell whether Lupin's trousers were made of dragon hide or something else; as Lupin drew nearer, he could see that they were smooth, lacking the shimmer of scales that marked dragon hide clothing. He thought they might be leather, but whatever they were, they were smooth, black, and snug, and looking at them gave Severus that molten lava feeling in the pit of his stomach. His shirt, which was a burnt orange color that Severus grudgingly admitted looked good on him, was untucked, but it wasn't long enough to hide his arse, and Severus scowled when he noticed a couple of the other patrons admiring the view.

It had been not quite three months since they had begun their two-man book club. Severus had assumed that once they finished discussing Talbot, that would be the end of it, but just before they wrapped up that book, Lupin found another new release which was of interest to them both, one on new breeds of magical creatures that had been discovered in the depths of the South American rainforests. They began meeting in Severus' office, then gradually moved to his chambers and then to Lupin's flat. Tea became lunch, which then became dinner, and for the past three weeks, Severus had felt like they were dating. Which was preposterous, of course, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that all the trappings of romance were in place, only without the actual romance.

By unspoken agreement, they avoided talking about the past, focusing instead on the books they were reading at first, but gradually, as Severus had relaxed in Lupin's company, they branched out to include other topics. Severus grumbled about his students, Lupin discussed the new Weasley products -- which Severus also took as a warning, letting him know what to look out for -- and sometimes, when it was late and they were alone and had been drinking a little wine, the conversation shifted to more personal matters, although rarely for long. Severus never allowed his tongue to get away from him, and he quickly steered the discussion back to safer territory.

At first, he remained convinced that Lupin had some sort of ulterior motive, but as the weeks passed and nothing more dire happened than Severus realizing Lupin wasn't half-bad to talk to, he began to let go of his suspicions. It wasn't until he figured out that Lupin was using the same techniques on him as one might use in trying to tame a wild animal -- no sudden moves; speaking in a calm, soothing voice; regular offers of food -- that he accepted the fact that Lupin, for whatever reason, wanted his company. It amused and puzzled him that Lupin would go to such trouble when the man had plenty of friends and a handsome young lover, and in the end, he decided that Lupin's motivations were no more or less than those he had expressed during their first discussion: he wanted Severus for his mind. Severus couldn't see Lupin having in-depth conversations like theirs with Potter. The boy must be phenomenal in bed, he thought with a disdainful sniff, because there was little else to keep them together.

No, Severus could only think of one other person who might give Lupin the intellectual stimulation he desired, and that was the Granger girl, who by all accounts was married to her work. So that left Severus, and at that point, he couldn't say he minded. He refused to admit it aloud, but their meetings gave him something to look forward to, providing a bright spot in his otherwise dull existence.

"How did things go with your third years?" Lupin asked as he sat down across from Severus.

"Better than I expected. Only one melted cauldron and no explosions, which was mild, all things considered."

"Excellent. After your dire predictions, I was expecting to receive a note, telling me that you needed to postpone our meeting because you had to report to Minerva's office to explain why half your class was in the infirmary," he said, the teasing note in his voice letting Severus know there was no need to bristle.

Snorting, Severus shook his head. "Fortunately not."

"Fortunate indeed," Lupin said quietly, meeting and holding Severus' gaze. "I would have missed having our talk."

Severus didn't want to be the first to look away; showing his embarrassment at Lupin's words would have been a sign of weakness he didn't care to reveal, but he couldn't keep from fidgeting a little, his hands roaming the table top for something to occupy them.

"Actually, I've been thinking," Lupin continued, and finally it was he who looked away, glancing down briefly, but not before Severus caught a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. "We've been meeting for months now, and it's been enjoyable, but--"

Grimacing, Severus averted his face, knowing what was coming. Lupin no longer had any interest in him. Lupin's friends were pressuring him to keep away from the greasy Slytherin. Lupin was starting to be ashamed of being seen with him.

"But it isn't enough anymore, at least not for me."

Jerking his head back again, he stared at Lupin, his scowl deepening. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean I want more than friendship."

Lupin's tone was so matter-of-fact, his demeanor so nonchalant that Severus could scarcely process his words. How could he be so bloody calm about making a pronouncement like that?

"What exactly do you want, then?" Severus didn't bother keeping the wariness out of his voice, and he leaned back in his chair, as if expecting Lupin to leap across the table and ravish him then and there.

"I want a relationship with you, Severus," Lupin said. "The kind where we don't go our separate ways after hours of talking. The kind that involves nudity and groping. The kind that might end up lasting for the rest of our lives."

" _What_?" It wasn't often that something reduced him to boggling, but he couldn't help it. "What is this -- a joke at my expense? Or did you and Potter break up, so now you're rebounding into me?"

"What does Harry have to do with this?" Lupin asked, frowning at him.

"He's your lover! Or he _was_ , anyway!"

It was Lupin's turn to boggle, and while that gave Severus some small amount of satisfaction, it didn't make up for the rising fury he felt over being toyed with. "Harry has never been my lover. He's straight, for one thing, and even if he wasn't, I couldn't possibly shag him. I'd feel like a perverted uncle molesting his nephew."

"I saw the way the two of you were dancing in your office, Lupin," Severus said, grinding the words out through clenched teeth.

"It didn't mean anything. He teased me about not being able to dance, so I showed him I could. That's all there was to it. I love Harry dearly, but believe me, Severus, neither of us harbors any impure thoughts about the other."

Buggerdamnfuckbloodyhell.

All this time, Severus had been under the assumption that Lupin wanted nothing more from him than friendship, and he felt his lungs constrict as he struggled to draw breath as understanding crashed down on him: Lupin had an ulterior motive all along. All the meetings, all the casual invitations to his flat, to have a drink, to have dinner -- it was all for a purpose.

"You tricked me." His voice sounded harsh and ragged even to his own ears as he shoved his chair back, poised to flee.

"No, not on purpose." Lupin half-rose and reached across the table to rest his hand on Severus' arm. "I didn't know you thought Harry and I were lovers. I wanted to spend time with you to see if we could get to know each other without all the hostility in the way."

Wrenching his arm free of Lupin's grasp, he glared across the table. "Why me?"

Cautiously, Lupin sat down again, but he looked coiled to spring if Severus showed any signs of bolting. "Because I thought we might suit."

"Try again, Lupin," Severus said, uttering a sharp bark of mirthless laughter.

"I mean it," Lupin insisted, that all-too familiar stubborn frown forming between his eyes. "I thought you and I might find we have things in common, and these last few months have proved me right. I like you, Severus. When you're not wallowing in bitterness and anger, you're good company, and I'm attracted to you as well."

"I've heard enough," he snarled, leaping to his feet. He had to leave -- had to get away from Lupin before he did something stupid like believe all those pretty words and admit to himself -- or worse, to Lupin -- that he wanted to believe them, but Lupin was quick to rise and block his path, heedless of the other patrons who might be watching.

"Does the thought of being with me disgust you so much that you won't even consider the possibility?"

"I will not discuss this with you here, Lupin." He drew himself up to his full height, peering down his nose at Lupin as he tried to ignore the increasingly curious stares of those around them.

"Fine. Come back to my place. It's closer."

A scathing refusal was poised on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the determination in Lupin's eyes, he knew it would do no good; if he refused to finish the conversation that night, Lupin would return to finish it later, and he preferred to get it over with so that he could throw Lupin out of his life once and for all and have done with it.

"Fine."

They walked left the pub and walked to Lupin's flat in silence; Severus refused to look at him, keeping his eyes fixed ahead, his expression stony until they reached the flat and Lupin unlocked the door. He swept past Lupin and went straight to his usual chair, fixing Lupin with his most withering glare as Lupin crossed the room and sat down across from him.

"Well?" Lupin asked, his own face an inscrutable mask.

"I won't consider the possibility, because there is no possibility," Severus retorted.

"How can you say that? These past three months--"

"These past three months have meant nothing!"

"If that's true, then why did you keep agreeing to meet with me?" Lupin leaned forward, grasping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "Or are you going to pretend that every moment was torture, and I forced you to do it?"

"Just because we talked about a few books doesn't mean I want a relationship with you."

"Surely you don't still hate me."

Glaring, Severus crossed his arms and refused to answer; he wanted to shout that yes, he did still hate Lupin, but he knew the futility of that. Lupin wouldn't believe him, and with good reason: Severus had to admit, whether he wanted to or not, that it wasn't true. Far from it -- the idea of moving from a platonic relationship to a sexual, perhaps romantic relationship with Lupin was appealing. _Too_ appealing. The thought unnerved him, and he wanted it all to go away so he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore.

"I know it isn't because you're straight. If you were, you would have told me so as soon as I brought up the idea instead of admitting you thought Harry and I were lovers. So what is it? That I'm a werewolf?"

Looking away, Severus sat stiffly in his chair, resolutely silent. He didn't like these questions. He had no qualms about lying, but only when he thought he had a shot at being believed. Somehow, he didn't think Lupin would be convinced that he had barely tolerated Lupin's presence all this time. Slowly, Lupin eased out of his chair onto all fours and began crawling towards Severus; his shoulders rolled sinuously, and his eyes were fixed on Severus' face. In the flickering glow of the firelight, he looked like a stalking predator as he approached, and Severus repressed a shiver at the sight.

"I don't think that's it either," Lupin said, a growling undercurrent in his voice. Kneeling in front of Severus, he skimmed his hands up Severus' calves and rested them on his knees, leaning close. "I think you're afraid."

"Don't be ridiculous." But the scoffing sounded hollow even to himself, and it ended on a sharp gasp when Lupin slid his hands up to Severus' thighs.

"I'm presenting you with an opportunity, Severus. It's up to you to take it or not. If you take it, then we'll begin dating with the intent to work towards a long-term relationship if possible. If not, then we'll forget the whole thing, and I won't bother you anymore."

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin pressed a finger to his lips, leaning closer, almost close enough to kiss. "But let me make my intentions perfectly clear. I want a partner, not just a short-term lover. I want someone to make love with, not someone just to shag. I want someone to grow old with, someone I like and who keeps me on my toes. If that sounds better to you than being alone, then perhaps it's worth the risk you must take to get it."

With that, he rocked back on his heels, giving Severus some space, and Severus scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. The ironic thing was that Lupin had no idea that the thought of taking Lupin as his lover didn't disgust him at all. His reluctant fascination had grown since they began spending time together, and part of him had been jealous of Potter. Now it seemed that what he thought was out of reach was, in fact, within his grasp, if he simply reached out to take it.

He thought about the long, empty years already behind him. He thought about the decades before him, stretching out equally long and empty, bitterness and loneliness eating at him until he was nothing but a husk wandering the dank corridors of his dungeon lair.

"Yes."

He blurted it out in a rush and was immediately terrified, wishing he could call it back. This would end badly. Lupin would realize he had made a mistake. It couldn't possibly last. Happily ever afters weren't for the likes of Severus Snape, and trying to grab at one he didn't deserve would only result in ruin.

But before he could say another word, Lupin leaned forward and cupped his cheek in one hand, drawing him down until their lips met -- a light, gentle brush of a kiss. It seemed more like a promise than a prelude to seduction, and Severus found himself relaxing a little, especially when Lupin moved away from him again, returning to his own chair.

"What if it doesn't work out?" Severus asked, a petulant note in his voice.

"Then you get to say 'I told you so' and gloat."

"I will, you know."

And Lupin smiled at him fondly, his tone laced with affection. "Yes, I know."


End file.
